


D-day

by LapisLazuli786



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Divorce, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapisLazuli786/pseuds/LapisLazuli786
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicola Murray decides to divorce James. Malcolm Tucker rumbles towards her from a distance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unsteady Ground](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830157) by [mardia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia). 



> Random angsty palaver which occurred after I read 'Unsteady Ground' - I do apologize.

“Jesus, woman - what is in your head?”

Nicola sighed. She did not need this. Not today.

“Hey! Nic’la! Wakey wakey!”

She swatted Malcolm’s clicking fingers away from her face and gave an exasperated huff without looking up. She was certain, for some reason, that she shouldn’t look him in the eyes. He saw his hands rest on her desk as he leaned over it, to push menacingly into her space.

“Are you gonna fuckin’ talk te me or what?” His voice sounded equal parts furious and baffled.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Malcolm”, she said - which was about as effective in stopping the conversation as she thought it would be.

“Nothin’ te -” One hand lifted from the wood to clutch at some invisible grip on reality that hovered in the space to his right, “you’ve just fuckin’ decided, out of nowhere, that yer divorcin’ yer husband of eleven years, withou’ discussin’ it with any-fuckin-body at all an’ you think-” He was unable to continue, choking on his own incredulity.

“Yes.” She confirmed.

There was a pause.

“Well you were fuckin’ wrong,” he growled, eventually, “so open yer trap.”

She pressed her lips together so hard she could feel the muscles there screaming for blood.

“Oh for fuck’s sake-”

“WHAT?” The word burst out of her of its own accord, her head snapping up to meet his stunned gaze, “What do you want me to say, Malcolm? Do you want to hear about how I found out about the affairs he’s been having a whole fucking year ago?” Malcolm’s mouth opened but she ignored it, rolling on, “Do you want to know about how I ignored it for ages because I didn’t want to go through this?” She gestured wildly at the pile of papers she’d collected from her lawyer that morning, “Or would you like to hear the truth?” He mouth curled in a sickened smile, “that I haven’t actually given a shit about the man I’ve been married to for the last decade since before I care to remember - and God knows, one of us should have been getting some because he hasn’t fucking touched me in-” She broke off abruptly, but didn’t blush, instead sighing, and dropping her voice. She might as well tell him, she supposed. She was done hiding. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I honestly didn’t care about any of it. But I made some snarky remark about it the night before last, and he…” She was suddenly incapable of meeting his eyes again. She swallowed “He hit me.”

Oh, no. It had not meant to sound like that. So rough in her throat. She was talking to Malcolm Tucker, for Christ’s sake. She had heard the rumours about his “da’” just like everyone else. She couldn’t look like she was trying for sympathy. She cleared her throat. “So obviously, I can’t have my kids living in a house with him so I’ve filed for a divorce and you’re not going to talk me out of it so you might as well just-” Her gaze landed on his, steady, “-deal with it.”  
Malcolm’s eyes bored into hers for what felt like ridiculously long. It should have been awkward or intimidating but it just… wasn’t. Not today. Nicola was not the one who looked away first. He nodded, and then passed a hand over his face, sighing.

“The papers’re gonna find out,” He said, resigned, and then held a hand up to silence her before she even began talking, “I don’t care how careful you are - unless yer using an invisible lawyer, it’s gonna fuckin’ happen. Sooner you accept that, darlin’, the quicker this’ll be.” She felt a muscle in her jaw twitch at the sarcastic term of endearment but nodded her agreement anyway, waiting for him to continue.


	2. Chapter 2

The conversation lasted a full forty-five minutes, and they argued over tactics more than once. Strangely enough, it was Malcolm who wanted to take the more aggressive approach with James, if it came down to it.

“-all I’m sayin’ is that if the cunt tries te fight ye, we should tear him to shreds. Let the Albany PR shits deal with pictures of him with the secretary; you’re comin’ out of this like the proverbial fuckin’ whistle.”

“Malcolm, I told you, I don’t care about-” He cut her off with a scoff.

“Don’t flatter yerself with thinkin’ I give a shit about what ye care about. The story is that he’s been fuckin’ about, an’ you’ve had enough, so yer leavin’ with yer dignity-”

“Surely the truly dignified thing to do would be to ignore anything he tries to do?”

“Makin’ him look petty isn’t as good as showin’ him up as the twat he so obviously actually is,” Malcolm said with a surprising amount of heat, “we’ll make it so he’s got nowhere te go an’ then we’ll fuck him over so hard he’ll be bleeding out the shitter until you win the house an’ the kids.”

“Yes, and I’m sure my kids would really appreciate me permanently damaging their father,” she said, a bit breathlessly, looking down at the papers in front of her. The house. Custody. The reality of what this settlement was going to entail hit her with the full force of a dodgy cab driver at 2am.

“Nic’la? You alright?” His voice was closer than she could account for, and she realised he’d leant towards her.

“Yeah,” she replied, unconvincingly, sounding chipper in that horrible way they both knew meant something was intrinsically _wrong_ , “I just- the house- and the kids-” She let out a breathless laugh, “it’s going to take a lot.” She didn’t specify of what. Time? Effort? Her? She suddenly felt incredibly uncertain about her decision. Maybe she was being selfish, or stupid, or-

“Hey,” He covered one of her hands with his as it rested on the file, and she could only stop staring at the place they touched after he did something even more surprising, in the form of using his other hand to tip her chin up, so she would look into his grey eyes. “Yer not doing it alone.”

It was a quiet admission, and the fact that he didn’t immediately follow it up with some crass insult was enough to mean that she remained staring at him silently until he pulled away, his fingers curling into his hands as he shoved them to his sides, sliding his seat back an inch and returning to the matter at hand in a voice that did not in any way sound strained at all. Not in the slightest. Unless, of course, you were Nicola Murray, and knew the voice better than you’d ever care to admit. In which case… you would not mention it.

Eventually, they came to some form of compromise, Malcolm agreeing not to go in guns blazing as long as Nicola tried to keep the settlement quiet for as long as possible.

“-and if he tries anything, I’m not holding back on the sack of cum,” He concluded, daring her to challenge him with a look that could slice steel.

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you the pleasure,” she answered, almost amused. His eyes widened a fraction and she could have sworn that the corner of his mouth pulled up - just for a moment - but it was gone to quickly for her to be sure.

He glanced down at his watch and then frowned.

“Jesus, how long have we been here?” He didn’t wait for an answer before standing up, pulling his Blackberry out from his suit jacket and making an irritated noise at whatever greeted him. 

“Fuck the fuck off you miserable cunt…” he muttered as he typed something onto the keyboard, and glanced up just in time to catch Nicola’s responding smile.

“Enjoyin’ my misery, are ye?” She pressed her tongue into her cheek.

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but it’s not like you don’t get a kick out of mine so…” His mouth quirked up and, for a second, she thought his eyes changed - softened, maybe.

“Yeah,” he said, voice unexpectedly rough, “that’s true.” There was another moment of silence, the two of them staring at each other. 

“However,” he began again, pocketing the phone, “you have made some decisions of late that will increase my workload by a metric fuckton, so I think you owe me a drink.” Her eyebrows raised.

“Oh?” She asked, incredulously.

“Mmm,” He nodded the affirmative, looking assessingly at her, like he was calculating his next move. “Or you could go back to the hotel - rest or whatever.” His eyes wandered away from her as he finished, and Nicola suddenly realised what he was asking. If it was better to be alone… or with him. Well, fuck. Malcolm Tucker was offering to keep her company.

“And remain indebted to you?” She asked teasingly, “I think not.” How could she refuse?


	3. Chapter Three

They ended up in a pub two roads down from the office, the easy way in which Malcolm ordered their drinks suggesting he’d frequented it before. Nicola was still wondering at the surreality of the situation when they arrived, and blushed when she realised she’d been caught staring at him.

“I know I’m a fuckin’ car crash, love, but it is polite to look away every once in a while,” he said, a note of amusement in his tone, and she shook her head.

“Sorry, just - don’t think I’ve seen you drinking before.” He sampled the whiskey cupped in his palm before answering.

“Don’t, usually. Got to be sober enough te deal with whatever catastrofuck happens te occur.”

“But not tonight?”

“Special occasion,” He muttered, looking at her sideways before downing the rest of his drink and knocking the bar for another.

“What, because I’m paying?” He grinned at her arched eyebrow.

“Aye, somethin’ like that.”

 

They talked about nothing in particular, certainly not about the divorce, him mostly using the opportunity to complain about each and every imbecile he was forced to work with, successfully distracting her from the sorrows of her life. Distracting in more ways than one, actually. Malcolm Tucker drinking was something to behold; she could almost see the tension leaching out of his body, his shoulders loosening and his smiles becoming ever more frequent and increasingly less feral. In fact, by their fourth round, a grin from him didn’t feel like a threat at all, and, despite the fact that he was tearing into her colleagues with the kind of vitriol that would make Frankie Boyle blush, Nicola was almost tempted to use the word… charming. That was also when he lost his suit jacket, and rolled his sleeves up so she could see the wiry muscle tensing behind his skin as he leant his elbows on the bar. She tried not to notice the urge she had to follow one tendon up from his wrist over the skin, under the shirt-

“Yer doin’ it again,” Malcolm’s voice was mockingly stern as he pretended to glare at her. Christ. She smiled sheepishly back.

“Sorry,” she didn’t bother trying to offer an explanation. She couldn’t think of a single set of words to say in that moment that wouldn’t sound like she was insane and/or propositioning him. 

“Maybe it’s time to call it a night. I’ve more than paid my debt, I think.” She looked pointedly at the half-full glass in his hand. He followed her gaze and then - oh - scratched his head in a way that should not in any manner be endearing to her at all.

“Yeah, well - let me call a cab while I finish this an’ I’ll drop you off the hotel, alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer before turning back to his drink and, besides, she was taking too much pleasure from looking at him to really cut this short, so she watched him finish in silence, calculating the price of the evening in her head. To her surprise, however, before she could get out her purse, he’d already pressed two notes into the barman’s hand, muttering something to him as he stood up.

“Malcolm?” She said incredulously, “I thought the point was that _I_ was getting _you_ a drink,” He shrugged, a lazy smirk gracing his face, and for a moment she was torn between smacking and kissing it off. She did neither of course, instead scoffing at his sarcastic: “Pleasure of yer company was enough, I’m sure.”

They walked outside together, her almost falling flat on her face off of the step, instead being caught by Malcolm, his arm pulling tight around her waist even as he laughed at her.

“How many did you actually fuckin’ have?” He asked, waiting for her to steady herself.

“Oh, shut up.” She glared up at him and suddenly lost the ability to breathe as she realised how close he was, registering the heat of the arm she’d spent a good portion of the evening staring at pressed into her side. His mouth quirked up and she caught something that could have been recognition in his face before he turned towards the street again. He moved his arm, but only so his hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her out to the kerb. He only removed it once they were leaning against the wall, and Nicola felt the loss like a rush of air, shivering.

“You cold?” He asked, frowning.

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly, and he rolled his eyes before opening out the jacket he’d had folded over his arm, “c’mere,” he muttered, pulling her shoulders towards him as he draped the thing over her back, almost elbowing her in the face in an attempt to catch one end as it slipped from his fingers. She sighed.

“Here…” She grasped the side he’d dropped and turned, letting him pull it over her shoulder. It took her all of three seconds to realise she’d practically stepped into his arms, his hands on her shoulders as she felt his breath warm across her cool cheek, the momentary brush of his chest against her back. Christ, she hoped he couldn’t see her blushing.

“Cab,” He muttered, and she turned slightly.

“What?” She noted his expression was vaguely troubled, distracted as he stared at her.

“Cab.” He gestured towards the car she’d not noticed pulling up and her mouth opened in a silent “oh.”

She glanced up at him before stepping towards the door, feeling him maneuver to pull it open for her a moment after she did, their fingers meeting on the handle. She pulled back like she’d been burnt and then cursed herself for acting like a schoolgirl, silently appreciating the way he averted his eyes and ignored it as she clambered gracelessly into the car. He spoke the name of the hotel she was staying at and then settled back into the seat, brushing his arm against hers. He glanced down and then up to her face.

“Sorry,” He said, although his eyes spoke less of apology and more of anticipation. Just what was he waiting for? Did he think she’d spring away from him again? No, she would embarrass herself no further. Touching Malcolm Tucker was not in any way terrifying.

“S’no problem,” she said cooly, leaning into him a little by way of proof before sitting back, letting the tips of her fingers just brush his thigh a moment and trying not to notice the way the muscle tensed under the fabric of his trousers. Perhaps she shouldn’t have done that. It appeared to have sunk him into a brooding silence, out of which she could think of no way to bring him. 

Maybe silence was better actually. At least she wouldn’t say anything mortifying, and, actually, he was far more dangerous when he was talking, that gorgeous warm voice with it’s rough edges and baroque language moving like a current in the deepest ocean through her seventy-five percent water body and instilling itself in the warm place just under her heart that clenched painfully whenever he did anything particularly attract- oh dear. She only had to last another twenty minutes, she reminded herself, twenty minutes and she would no longer have to be in close proximity with Malcolm Tucker. Just twenty minutes.


	4. Chapter Four

It was, by all accounts, the longest fucking twenty minutes of her life. Not even the argument she’d had with James about the divorce had felt as painful as knowing that she was in danger of throwing herself at the only person who knew the real reason said divorce was happening. He’d offered her company, sure - and paid for her drinks - but he wasn’t going to allow her to use him as a comfort blanket. Or give her a pity fuck. She only realised she’d sighed out loud when his head snapped up from its bowed position. He blinked at her tight smile and then looked out of the window.

“We’re almost there, right?” She glanced around. Oh. So they were.

“Yup.” She tried not to think that his responding look seemed to indicate he’d heard something she didn’t want him to hear in her tone. He seemed to make a decision, pulling his eyes from her and leaning towards the driver.

“That’ll do us - reckon we can walk from here,” Nicola’s eyebrows raised.

“We?” She blurted it without thinking and then bit the inside of her cheek, hard.

“I’m walkin’ ye te yer fuckin’ door,” He said, but there was something of the usual vehemence lacking in his tone, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Well I’m paying for this,” she forced out, ignoring his half hearted protest and handing the cab driver a fistful of notes. Malcolm popped the handle and unfolded himself out onto the pavement, proffering his hand to help her out of the car. She felt her fingers wrap around his forearm and could not resist a - hopefully subtle - squeeze of the hard muscle she felt there. He didn’t move to pull away, so neither did she and then Nicola was almost on the verge of laughing at the image of Malcolm Tucker escorting her to her rooms on his arm. He didn’t leave at the lobby, despite her expectant look, instead saying, with the appropriate amount of ferocity, “I know ye won’t take the lift, an’ I’d hate fer you te fall down the stairs and break yer fuckin’ legs-”

“I suppose that’s your job, the next time I mess something up?” She asks drily.

“Got it in one.” He broke into that easy grin again and she tried - and failed - not to stare, although he had the good grace not to mention it this time, instead leading her up the two flights of stairs to her floor. She took a moment to remember which number her room was and then pulled (reluctantly) away from him as she patted herself down for her keycard, only then remembering she was wearing his jacket.

“I suppose you’ll want this back,” she said, pulling it off her and stretching it out to him.

“Well it does have my phone in it,” He drawled sarcastically, “and I can’t think of any fuckin’ use it’d have in there.” He gestured towards the room with tip of his head as he reached out his hand.

“Oh, I don’t know,” She sighed, rubbing her eyes with her free hand, “I could cuddle it while I sleep.”

She registered that he wasn’t responding and went back over the words in her head. It sounded like a joke, right? Surely, it had sounded like a joke.

“Yeah,” He said in a voice that was only incrementally more strangled sounding than his usual one, “with so many fond fuckin’ memories o’ me.” The acknowledgement that this evening was unusual, that the Malcolm Tucker who had bollocked her on so regular a basis was the same one who was leaning against her door now, that they were holding more than a jacket between them - that is what threw Nicola off.

“Are you gonna fuckin’ go in or no’?” He said, in a low voice, and she realised she’d frozen again, staring into his dark eyes. She let out a laugh.

“Yeah,” She said, fumbling with the key card before finally opening the door. She stood on the threshold a moment, listening to the sound of her own heart thudding in her chest. She took a deep breath.

Then: “Are you?”

She managed to turn her body to his, and, for the umpteenth time that night, found it closer than she’d expected, her gaze catching on him again, noting the way his lips parted in response to her question. The way they pressed together again a moment before answering.

“D’ye wan’ me to?” His brow furrowed as he asked the question, possibly because it had escaped him in a voice an octave lower than the one he usually used. She waited a moment, checking herself. There was no more pretending now, she acknowledged, if she answered in the affirmative there would be no way he wouldn’t know exactly what she meant. She nodded. He stared back at her a moment longer, like he was waiting for her to change her mind.

“Alright,” He said gruffly, still staring, and did not break eye contact as he followed her in, not touching her as he moved past and into the room. The both glanced over as the door closed behind them. Oh. Oh shit. She shouldn’t have done that.

“Malc-” she began, turning back, but the rest of whatever she was going to say ended in his mouth as he used it to cover hers. She froze against him again for another moment before she felt her hand move to brush against his, and she remembered the way he’d felt when he’d caught her earlier. How his arm had wrapped around her, warm and strong and supportive… she melted into the kiss, letting out a soft noise of surrender as she trailed her hand all the way up his arms and to his shoulders, draping them around his neck even as his moved to her waist to pull her closer to him. As their bodies pressed flush together, she felt his erection hard against her, and pulled away from the kiss, gasping. He shifted his hands slightly so he could step away enough to look at her.

“Alright?” He asked, voice rough. She looked up into his eyes and almost blanched. They were assessing, calculating. Like they had been when he’d said she owed him a drink. Like when he’d said he was walking her home. She suddenly wondered how much of this had been planned. When he’d decided he was going to do this.

“No, not really,” She said, pushing him away, ignoring the bafflement on his face as she turned her back and walked to the other side of the room. “Did you plan this?” She asked, spinning around again.

“What?” he almost laughed.

“Did. You. Plan. This.” She repeated, glaring at him, trying desperately hard not to cry with embarrassment, “When you took me to the pub or when you ordered the cab or when you said you’d walk me here - were you planning-” She stumbled a moment, unsure of what to call it, “-planning on this?” She watched his face close off into a glare, all the ease he’d gained in the past hour disappearing. Had that been an act too?

“What are you actually fuckin’ askin’ me, Nic’la?” He bit out.

“Why did you come in-?”

“You fuckin’ asked me-” His indignant response was cut off by her next question.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Jesus Christ-” His jaw clenched as he took a step towards her.

“I’m serious, Malcolm,” She insisted, “is this just because you feel sorry for me? I told you about James and now-” She broke off as she was surprised by a choked sob. It took her a second to realise it had been from her, and then another to find Malcolm’s eyes again, just as they softened. He hesitated, running one hand through his hair before sighing and crossing the room. He pulled her into his arms and she felt them wrapping around her, and - to her immense horror - herself burying her face in his chest as she cried, breathing him in while he stroked her back.

“Nic’la,” He said softly, not pulling away, “I kissed ye because I wanted te fuckin’ kis ye. It’s as simple as that. I took ye out cuz I didn’t want ye te be alone. An’ that’s why I’m still here.” He tipped her face up with one hand and she pulled away from him a little, wiping her face with her hands before looking up into his steady gaze.

“Ye don’t have te be alone tonight.” He said clearly, not breaking eye contact. She blinked.

“But you won’t be here in the morning,” She heard herself half-whisper, and felt him take another deep breath.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but you still don’ have te be alone tonight.”

There it was then. Her choice. She could have Malcolm Tucker for the night, and wake up to an empty bed, accepting that she would have to deal with the morning when the morning came. Or, she could refuse him. Separate herself from him and open the door and watch him walk away, knowing that he would not be back. She felt herself recoiling from the very thought, and his muscles tense in response. She heard him let out a heavy breath that - had it? - shook towards the end, and he dipped his head to press a single, anomalously gentle kiss to her forehead. He was letting her go, she realised, with something like horror. He’d read her retreat as a rejection and was about to leave for good. Her decision was made before she’d even thought about it, her hands coming up to pull his face down to hers, pressing her mouth to his for a full three seconds before she felt him respond in kind, accepting her choice as final. He pulled away again, despite her soft noise of protest.

“Yer sure this is what ye want?” He asked in a voice like gravel, eyes boring into hers, and she knew he was admitting impediment. Nicola knew the offer he’d extended had an expiry date - namely the next day - but right now, all that meant was that she’d have to take it while she could.

“Yeah, Malcolm. I’m sure.”

And they didn’t waste another second talking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyouverymuch for reading - if you're interested in any other works by the author, you can find me at kibzandink.tumblr.com ^.^


End file.
